Dreams of darkness
by Incredebil
Summary: One refused to be pushed around. The other refused to be the second worst. "All the forces in the world are not so powerful as an idea whose time has come." – Victor Hugo. Dark!Harry, Evil!Harry. My very first story, with an odd pair. Possibly crap.


Note: This is my very first attempt at writing. The pairing is probably unusual, but thought I'd try. Any suggestion/criticism is welcome. Have chapter 2 in progress, should this attract any attention.  
>Disclaimer: Own nothing apart from any original OCs.<p>

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><p>It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon in Privet drive. Small cozy houses sat neatly along the road, soaking in the few scarce rays of the sunshine on the last months of summer. Birds chirped merrily in the nearby trees, with a few cats licking their paws and observing said critters. A cool breeze ruffled what was left of a diligently trimmed lawn and the leaves of flowers, resting peacefully in their decorated ceramic pots. Overall, it was a beautiful sight to behold, a painful Utopian normalcy. However, even the most perfect pictures have their own specks of dirt, and so did one Dursley family. Not that anyone would ever find out. You see, Vernon Dursley, a plump man in his prime, a director in the Grunnings drill company, was very proud of having a perfectly normal family. His mustache twitched proudly at the thought of his beloved wife Petunia and son Dudley. Petunia was a skinny woman with dark hair and a long face. She was an ordinary housewife, never having to work thanks to the generous income from her husband. Their son Dudley was just over a year old. According to Petunia, he was a beautiful pudgy baby, a little angel, with blond hair resting atop his head. Vernon sighed happily for his family. However, the proud face was efficiently wiped away by one detail he chose to pretend did not exist.<p>

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><p>Five years ago, his beautiful Saturday morning was disrupted by a screech that guaranteed a headache at the very least. Pulling a bath robe on quickly, Vernon staggered down the stairs to find his beloved wife frozen in a doorway, hands plastered firmly on her mouth and eyes bulging comically. Quickly looking down, he felt the color on his face vanish at the sight. There, on his very own doorstep, laid a baby. It was wrapped tightly in a blanket, with a… chicken? No, that looks nothing like a bloody chicken, Vernon thought. So this odd looking bird was holding a letter in its beak, perched on top of the baby. Reading the letter quickly, he refocused his gaze back onto the tiny human. The baby was creepy, Vernon thought, or as creepy as babies can really get. His almost sickly pale white skin held a slight tinge of pink to it, but it was extremely thin, with the blood vessels showing slightly. A coat of thick short jet black hair covered the baby's head, but the most striking feature was his eyes – the right eye looked like a glistening emerald, its appearance far too vivid and deep to be natural, but Vernon quickly dismissed it as a trick of the light. The left eye appeared nearly white, however upon closer inspection; it was a pale shade of blue. The inner ring was a deep blue color, framing the eye creepily. It also seemed barely natural, just like the emerald on the left. The baby's forehead was clear, apart from a scar. The scar was shaped like a triangle that was missing its bottom. The skin around it flared an angry red and there were traces of blood on the scar. Overall, the baby seemed to be from another planet, and with this statement, Vernon felt his temper flare up. The baby, however, observed the two figures looking bored, not making a single sound. Vernon felt a shiver go down his spine, he could swear the baby's eyes were piercing straight through him, but he quickly recovered, mumbling in annoyance. He glanced around - God help if their neighbors saw this scene. They were a normal family, and normal families did not have children left in front of their door! He pulled his still stunned wife back into the house, picked the bundle up and immediately slammed the door shut.<p>

Vernon huffed as his mind re-visited the details of that terrible morning. The boy was a freak, mooching off the pure generosity of his family. He was lazy, egoistic and his creepy looks were only a cherry on the top of the burden, also known as Harry Potter. He was quickly brought out of his musings when Petunia nudged him softly, informing that the waiter had arrived. He ordered some expensive food and forced his mind to rest on more pleasant matters. Despite various things being thrown into his peaceful life, he was sure his family would always stay strong. After all, who could be in a sour mood when there's a huge steak to be eaten…?

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><p>Back in 4 Privet Drive, a child sat on the floor with his legs crossed, staring intently at an object before him. A faint glow coming from a hovering ball of light was caressing his young frowning face. The child bore his eyes at the object, as if trying to set it on fire with his will alone. He immediately chastised himself - after all, no one could possibly do such a thing! He did choose to conveniently ignore the ball of light, as he refocused on the object. The object in question was a medium sized journal, with lined pages. It was dark leather bound, with a crimson ribbon for a page marker. It looked like it's been used with several bent pages and scuff marks on the cover, but still in a very good condition. The child carefully opened the cover with his long fingered hand, afraid to cause any additional harm to the journal. He inhaled sharply as the front cover flew open. This was followed by a quiet whimper and a frustrated exhalation as the journal revealed its carefully kept secrets... or lack of them. No moving dragons breathing fire, spells, or tricks, only the blank pages met the child's hungry eyes. Springing off the floor, he spun in circles for a few moments, trying to rid himself of the frustration. Sufficiently exhausted and dizzy, he not so gracefully plopped back on the floor, closing his eyes and attempting to re-assess the situation, like he saw grownups do. He looked at the journal again, puzzled by its emptiness. He sure had hoped that a journal, somehow appearing in his cramped cupboard, would have something interesting to display, but this clearly was not the case this time. Shaking himself out such thoughts, the child took a pencil and chewed on its end, in an attempt to come up with ideas what to write. He scribbled today's date, with the letters towering two lines in height, frowned deeply and concentrated again.<p>

_Dear dary... _

_my kname is hery. or henry. the durslies somtimes cal me a freek so im not tat shure. anywayy im 6! how old r u? oh wait darys cant talk. . . somtimes I wish dey did. I fel lonly. dary, that name sounds like my! mabe we can b frends. i liv here for many a yeer now. its aight for the most time but the durslies make me work alot. I dnt know at I did to be treeted like dis! I kno dudly isn't… am I realy dat bad? anywae i hav to go! see u later mr dary. _

_freek_

Grinning slightly at his masterpiece, Harry quickly hid his possessions and turned to Sha. Harry thought it was completely weird that this particular name came into his mind, but the bird seemed to be happy hearing it, so he let the matter slide. Sha was probably as weird as his name. The bird was covered in pure black fluff. If one looked at it from far away, it could easily be mistaken for a fluffy ball of some sort. Sha was quite tiny, his eyes, beak and legs as black as his feathers. He often blended into the shadows and more often than not, Harry had to search for quite a while to locate the elusive chick. Sha was a curious little thing, always observing his surroundings, as well as Harry's actions. The bird definitely seemed to be intelligent. Harry smiled at his friend and gently stroked its head. Feeling bored and drowsy, he finally decided to get some sleep. Day or night, the cupboard was always dark, a small set of grates being the only light source. The Dursleys threw a lumpy old cot several years ago, stating that this was trying their generosity and he should not complain. The cot in question sported some blood stains, thus making the air in the cupboard stale and sickening. But Harry did not complain, after all, he was lucky to have a roof over his head. Sighing softly, Harry closed his eyes and wiped his mind, banishing any hurtful thoughts into the darkest corners. Soon, his consciousness drifted away, and he retreated into light sleep.

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><p>In the next four years, not much had changed. Harry officially became something akin to a housemaid in the 4 Privet drive. He washed, cooked, cleaned and took care of the garden. Gardening was probably his favorite part, because that meant he could escape the overbearing presence of the Dursley family. Harry never considered himself to be lazy. He always worked hard and diligently, focusing on each and every detail. Perhaps he was a bit of a perfectionist, but he did not let it bother him too much. Doing chores was only exhausting, most of the time. It granted him some solace and a way to calm his nerves and seeing the Sun could not hurt either. Some days, he was not lucky enough to be left alone. Dudley, now a boy closely resembling a circle, and his gang of friends had taken liking in making Harry's life a Hell on earth. They would often chase him around, but Harry blended into the shadows well enough to escape the stampede of 10 year olds. Once alone, Dudley would not miss the opportunity to ruin Harry's work or simply taunt and insult him. Harry quickly learned not to argue back, because in the eyes of Vernon and Petunia, Dudley was a little angel. They would always take his side, even if it was clear who the real culprit was. To top it all off, strange things began happening. Things the Dursleys did not appreciate one bit. At first, those little oddities were written off as a consequence of being tired, or perhaps bad lighting. However, after one particular incident, the patience of Vernon finally snapped.<p>

_Harry was working in the garden, tending to a bunch of newly potted flowers. It was blazing hot and he's been outside for hours, eager to finish and retreat back inside. Dudley was standing in the shade, sipping lemonade, and observing the smaller boy.  
>"Hey, freak! Mom said that if you don't work faster, you will not get any dinner!" Dudley said with a sneer on his face.<br>"Go away, Dudley, I am nearly finished anyway. Could do without you looming here, really."  
>"You," Dudley's voice was a mere whisper, "will learn to respect your superiors, freak, or dad will know all about your stupid freakishness!" Having said that, Dudley shoved Harry into wet dirt and flipped a couple of pots for a good measure. "Here," he spat on Harry's shirt, "you'd better learn to watch your tongue." Without looking back, Dudley went back home with a smug look on his face.<br>Harry groaned as he got up, now covered in dirt from head to toe. He was just finishing cleaning himself a little when Petunia stormed into the garden, with innocent-looking Dudley in tow.  
>Her eyes furiously darted from the dirty boy to the ruined pots, while her face turned a bright shade of red.<br>"What… what is the meaning of this?! I knew you were good for nothing, just like your stupid mother! Forget about dinner for a week, I do not want to see your face again!" Petunia screeched.  
>Harry was staring intently at the floor. He decided to try his luck just this once, as his stomach was growling angrily already.<br>"Dudley did this! I was working when he-, "Harry was immediately cut off by a hand connecting with his tender cheek.  
>"How DARE you lie right in my face, you ungrateful, pathetic little brat!" Petunia stuck her head through the doorway and screamed for Vernon to come down. And so, 5 minutes later, a large man waddled into the scene, with a scowl on his face. Petunia knew better than to interrupt his afternoon nap, so this better be serious.<br>"This brat blamed our precious Dudley for his own incompetence! He dared to accuse him of destroying my two flower pots!" Petunia was now panting heavily in anger, while Vernon unceremoniously grabbed Harry by his collar and dragged him inside. He roughly shoved the boy on the floor and delivered several kicks in his ribs.  
>"You… pathetic excuse for a human… dare to insult my family?!... Be bloody grateful you're still alive, boy…" Each set of words was accented by another kick, until Harry was bleeding profusely.<br>Curling into a tight ball, Harry wished for this to stop, wished to be left alone. And as these thoughts were swirling rapidly in his mind, his body started glowing faintly. A cold breeze rose, despite all windows being closed. A moment later, Vernon was against a wall, clutching at his heart and gasping for breath. His lips started to turn blue, when it stopped as suddenly as it came. Panting, Vernon used his remaining energy to give a final shove to the boy and slammed the door of the cupboard shut with a bang. Finally, he collapsed on the floor, where Petunia found him and promptly called the ambulance. The doctors could not find anything wrong with the man, aside from his weight, so he was soon discharged._

Harry awoke two days later in the most pain he's ever felt. His frail body felt like it was being sliced by a bunch of white-hot knives, his chest rose and fell irregularly. Harry did not dare to move and instead gently poked his chest, wincing several times as sharp pain betrayed several broken or at least cracked ribs. He vaguely tried to recollect the memories of what sent him into such a pitiful state. Finally, he decided to stay put and hope for the best. With last few painful breaths, Harry finally succumbed to the darkness and fell back into deep sleep.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Harry spent the next two days brutally clinging to life. Some part of his mind was quietly begging him to just give in to the feeling of warmth and comfort Death seductively offered, but it was viciously overthrown by the other, much larger part, which told a tale of revenge and greatness, all he had to do was hang on, just a little longer… Unable to hold mere mental arguments, Harry concentrated on relaxing and let the fate take the reins.

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><p>A week later, much to the Dursleys' horror, Harry was up and running, as if nothing happened. It was a Saturday afternoon, the 31st of July – the dreaded day when Harry was to turn 11. The boy was quietly going around doing his chores, Harry was arguing with himself, trying to find reasons for this occasion to bring him joy. <em>Dudley gets presents and attention, <em>_I get hate. _Harry rolled his eyes and finished cooking breakfast for the over-sized family, when the clang indicated post being delivered through the letter box. Seeing that the Dursleys were busy stuffing their faces with food, Harry trailed off to pick the mail up. Bills, offers, leaflets, a letter for Harry, more bills… Harry blinked owlishly and frowned – a letter for him? No one ever even acknowledged his presence here, what has changed? Tucking the letter under his shirt, Harry hurried back to the kitchen, where Vernon had already started his tirade about how lazy and useless his nephew was. Ignoring him completely, Harry dropped the rest of the mail on the table and quickly mumbled about going to the park.

The sun was generously bathing the trees, shrubs and grass with its rays. People were jovially chattering, while kids ran around, or playing at the playground. Somewhere, a dog barked excitedly at its owner and some geese ganged up at a suspiciously empty patch of grass. There, in a shade of a willow tree sat a boy, looking young and sickly, if his pale skin was any indication. Baggy old clothes covered his frail body, but no one spared him a second glance. After all, this child might be wild! You never know with those street kids. Some people openly sneered at the sight of the boy and abruptly changed directions.

Harry, for his part, ignored the hateful and concerned glances he was surely drawing. He did not care about anything else, apart from a large letter clutched in his trembling hands. Hesitating, he brushed his fingers against an old looking envelope, gently trailing the address, which was written neatly in green ink. Drawing in a breath, Harry carefully opened the thick envelope. Inside were several weird papers that looked old, just like the envelope. Harry took the first one, which contained the most writing and quickly read through it, snorting and frowning several times as he did. Putting it away, Harry read the second one, which appeared to be a list of supplies… Lastly, a ticket was included, which was for the train that left on the 1st of September, from platform 9 and ¾, at Kings Cross station. The text had indicated that he needed to reply as soon as possible, so Harry took out a pencil and began writing, using the rest of the package as a form of support.

_"__Dear Sir or Madam,_

_I am grateful for the offer to attend this school of yours, however I do not know where to get any of the supplies listed and I don't think I have enough money for it anyway. Is there any way around this?  
>Thank you,<em>

_Harry Potter"_

Looking back at the envelope for any return address, Harry frowned when he found none. Just as he began pondering the ways to give his answer, a large brown owl swooped down from a nearby branch and landed next to him holding its leg out. Harry's eyes bulged at the sight before him, but he quickly gathered his wits and handed the paper back to the owl, which took off with a flap of its mighty wings and disappeared out of sight. Shaking his head at the events, Harry gathered the remaining papers, tucked them into his shirt once more, and set out back home.

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><p>Back at the 4 Privet Drive, Harry quickly retreated back to his cupboard, finally having a good setting to process this brand new information. <em>Magic… <em>Harry thought, _that's what it's called. And they expect me to come into the world of Magic not knowing anything about it? _T_his must be a cruel joke, I would not be surprised__. _Sighing softly, Harry willed for the ball of light to appear, wondering how behind in Magic he was. Sure, he could do odd things that sort of fit this description, but everyone else must be ages ahead of him. Harry giggled as he remembered his attempt to escape the bullies at school, which had landed him on its roof. He could sometimes summon objects, if he wished hard enough. However, the weirdest incidents always happened around animals. Harry frowned at fairly fresh example…

_Harry was 9 years old, roaming the woods nearby the park. It was one of the days where Dursleys had Aunt Marge visiting with one of her vicious dogs. Harry, not taking any chances, excused himself and disappeared trying to avoid any conflicts, which had landed him in this exact place. There were no pathways, playgrounds, just fairly dark trees. Definitely not a place anyone wished to find themselves in. Shaking away his slightly panicked thoughts, Harry sat on a tree stump and let out a loud sigh. After around 10 minutes, the hair on his neck prickled, sensing some uninvited company. Ready to make a run for it, Harry froze at the sight of a large snake, slithering closer and closer. Harry relaxed and stood still, not wishing to provoke the creature, when something caught his attention. Attempting to understand what was going on; Harry slowly crouched down and listened. And there it was again – a lowly hiss coming from the snake. Oddly, the hissing seemed to form slurred words. As the snake got closer with its tongue flickering rapidly, the hissing became even clearer.  
>"Food… I ssmell food… fooood…"<br>A dumbfounded expression plastered on his face, Harry took a look at the snake. He had to admit, it was quite beautiful. The snake was completely white, with a slight rainbow shimmer to its scales. Its eyes were blue, so it was clearly not an albino. What confused him the most was that he could not make out the species of the creature, as it was clearly not an Adder, or any other species he knew.  
>"Uhm… hello there. I'm Harry.'<br>The snake immediately froze and flicked its tongue, assessing the object before it. Finding it to be non-threatening, it slithered closer and hissed again.  
>"A sspeaker… Hello, child. I am Draneva. I have not sseen you in thesse partsss before."<br>"Nice to meet you, Draneva, I do not come here often, you see. You are very beautiful! What species are you?"  
>"Thank you, child, I am a Busssh Viper. I am cold and you ssseem to be warm… could you help me, pleassse?<br>"Oh, of course!" Harry crouched down and shivered as the cool scales came in contact with his skin. "I am going home, Draneva, I can keep you warm for the night, but my relatives would not be happy to let me have an animal, even if you are mesmerizingly beautiful…"  
>"You're quite the charmer, child… I am grateful and worry not; your relativesss will not ssssee me."<br>"Alright, let's go!" Harry said, happy to get out of this place, as it was getting darker. He briskly walked home, a snake curled around his arm. Disappearing back into the cupboard, Harry curled on his cot, careful not to harm the snake. After he woke up, he found Draneva on his stomach, resting and readjusting its jaw.  
>"Thankss, sspeaker. I sshall get going, but I will ssssee you again, sssoon."<br>Bidding Draneva farewell, Harry shook his head. Was speaking to snakes weird? Probably, but he chose not to let it bother him and went on with his day._

This was one of several encounters with reptiles and other forest animals. Although he could only understand the more intelligent reptilians, other animals did not mind his presence and understood him to a certain degree. Reminiscing about all those incidents made him tremble in anticipation. If he could do this without knowing much about Magic, then he could only dream about powers he could control once he learned more! A grin spread on Harry's face – he would learn as much as he can and be powerful, so no one could use him ever again. With excited thoughts of Magic swirling in his head, Harry closed his eyes and gave in to the lingering tiredness.

* * *

><p>Five days have passed before a pompous looking owl landed on Harry's shoulder as he was wandering around the park again. Raising an eyebrow in amusement, Harry took the letter and the owl disappeared with a hoot. Quickly finding a comfortable spot to sit on, he opened the letter carefully.<p>

_"__Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Thank you for a quick reply. I'd like to inform you that all the supplies can be found at Diagon Alley, which can be accessed through the Leaky Cauldron, located in Charing Cross Road, London. I have attached a key to your vault at Gringotts, a wizarding bank. It's a large white building; I trust you will not have a problem finding it. I must apologize I cannot send anyone to give you a tour at this moment, as our staff is exceptionally busy. Please have a parent or a guardian accompany you to Diagon Alley._

Kind regards,

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry"_

All Harry could do right now was snort. _A magical school, unable to even accompany a new pupil to ensure their security at least… sounds ridiculous,_ Harry thought. The next day, Harry begged his Aunt Petunia to take him to Central London. After a lot of begging, Petunia nodded curtly in agreement, surely hoping the brat will get lost on his own. Harry went back to his cupboard grinning widely, getting ready for what was going to be an exciting day.

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><p>Next morning, he woke up to his Aunt screeching for him to wake up quickly, or threatened to leave without him. Pulling whatever tattered clothes he could find on, Harry gathered his letter and key and rushed outside. The trip through the streets of London was silent and uneventful, but he could swear he'd seen his dear Aunt send him several disdainful glances, not that he minded that at all. Soon, Petunia came to an abrupt stop and in no certain terms demanded he get out of her car. Wasting no time acting grateful, Harry leaped out of the car and strode away. He stopped only when he saw the name of the street he needed and took some time to look around. Lots of different people walked along the street, lost in their ordinary lives and problems. The sheer amount of sights, sounds and smells was quite overwhelming. Colorful cars and bright red buses stood still in one place, eagerly waiting to move. Harry began pondering on how a magical world could be hidden in a place like this, with all its madness. Pushing these thoughts aside, he scanned the buildings, his eyes finally resting on a shabby looking pub. Its worn wooden sign had barely readable letters on it, stating that this indeed was the Leaky Cauldron. Not wanting to get trampled by the people, Harry hastily made his way inside.<p>

The first thing that hit him was the smell. The air was heavy, full of dust. Various scents were lingering and Harry bitterly thought this place needed a window. Scrunching his nose, Harry soon discovered that the visuals weren't any more pleasing either. The interior was drowned in darkness, dull colored bottles hanging at the bar, with people sitting on the wooden stools chatting between themselves or simply wasting their time. Further into the pub stood small round wooden tables, and larger booths sitting next to the grimy walls. The only real source of light seemed to be a large fireplace. Some of the customers sent him curious glances, but quickly turned away once they were met by his unwavering cold gaze.  
>"Hey kid, you lost?" The voice was slightly creepy sounding, laced with a small amount of sarcasm. Harry diverted his attention from the surroundings to the source of the voice. He slightly recoiled when he was greeted by a toothless grin of a bald man, who was cleaning a glass with a dirty rag. The man was hunched over and his little eyes were intently studying the small boy before him.<p>

"No, sir. I need to get to the Diagon Alley, but I have never been there before. Could you possibly give me any directions?"  
>Grinning again, the man motioned Harry to follow him out into the courtyard. It was small, with a single trash can placed there and a large brick wall. Interested, Harry observed as the man made a pattern on the bricks and the wall dissolved into a hole, large enough to fit two men.<br>"Name's Tom, I'm a barkeep at the Leaky Cauldron, and who are you, kid?"  
>Harry, not trusting the man with his real identity quickly thought up a name. "Nice to meet you, Tom, I am Lucian Haaser. Thank you for showing me the entrance, I believe I can survive on my own now." Flashing a smile, Harry bowed slightly and went through a hole, leaving a slightly confused barkeep behind. After all, not every day you see a weird looking kid, with even weirder name! Shaking his head and reminding it's none of his business, Tom turned around and retreated back into the pub. And thus began HarryLucian's discovery of a world full of wonders.


End file.
